Meet Lapwing Lodge.

It rains a bit every day here. Clouds loom over our safe haven called lapwing. The grounds are lush from the perpetual water cycle overhead. All the colors of the flowers and trees are brighter. The light is softer. We are staying in a building that has been sustained well beyond its years. Maybe the hallways are wider from their inhabitants throughout the years. The kitchen is the most joyful room - as are most kitchens with natural sunlight- well as much as possible. Every door creaks, every floorboard wiggles - not so much as to hinder its structural integrity. A bathroom is not an all inclusive room. Each component has it's own room. A "toilet" consisting of nothing more than a toilet. A washroom consisting solely of its numerous faucets to fulfill its duty assigned by name. And last but not least the showers. None of which contain an electrical outlet for those appearance conscious folks. Then there's an entry way into the building, a drafty concrete portal with doors that will blow open and clamor about if you were to breathe too harshly. Their creaks and ease with which they open are quite inviting. If listening close enough one may always hear the soft laughter of kindred spirits reunited for but a week. The rooms are all aligned along a drafty hallway. Tucked away amid all the residents near the dining room and the worship center is the room claimed for beauty. 101. Onething I ask that I may dwell in the house of the Lord and gaze upon his beauty all the days of my life. This room is to claim the beauty that has been fought for for generations of women. This lodge is as if from a jane austen novel behind every door and in ever niche there is a story waiting to be told from the building that it's bustling members have not yet recorded.